To Fear or Not to Fear
by Kuroi Garyuu
Summary: Klaine one-shots. Can Blaine help Kurt conquer his fear?
1. Pteronophobia

**A/N** These are drabbles about various phobias that people suffer and deal with on a daily basis. These are in no way mocking or ridiculing those who do experience them. Phobias are a serious, and often life altering, experience and they should be treated in such a way. My idea is to show how one is able to control their own fear, especially with the help and support of those around them. They'll range from light-heartened instances to more serious encounters.

I'm also using them as a device to get back into the habit of writing (for school). Prompts are welcome!

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.

**Pteronophobia (fear of being tickled by feathers)**

Kurt never understood why people liked feathers. They were itchy, and carried diseases (especially the kind that little children picked up from the ground in the park and pranced around with), and felt disgustingly weird running up and down your skin. So, in short, Kurt really didn't like feathers.

He didn't mind being ticked though. Or, well, it depended on who was doing the tickling. With Mercedes it was okay (she only ever gave him a few pokes in the ribs when she was trying to get his attention); with Finn it was fine (it was Finn's way of being brotherly and Kurt always enjoyed the chance to spend brotherly-bonding time with his new step-brother); with Quinn is was fun (she would grab his waist and squeeze his sides whenever they finished a hug; he knew it was her way of showing affection); with Wes and David it was surprisingly enjoyable (it made him feel included when he became a Warbler—they went around the halls, daily, tickling only their closest friends—, and they even continued doing it when Kurt transferred back to McKinley); with Carol and his dad it was comforting (it made him feel loved whenever they gently pushed their fingers into his sensitive sides); with Puck and Sam is was weird, but accepted (it involved a lot of football-style tackling whenever he happened to get lucky and beat them at one of the video games they often came over to play; it also made him feel more included amongst the group of Glee guys); with Brittany is was adorable (she would paw at him like a cat and nudge her nose into his cheek, meowing; he would pet her head and braid her hair, smoothing out the blonde pieces into a perfect pleat).

With Blaine, however, it was orgasmic. The first time Blaine tickled him was during their first make-out session sans overly stiff white button-ups. Blaine's fingers ghosted gently over his waist, the calloused pads from guitar-playing catching on the fine hairs of Kurt's stomach. Kurt's breathy sigh encouraged Blaine to tickle him more often, and in more than one place. He found Kurt's neck to be especially sensitive to his fingers, and took advantage of generously running his hands down his boyfriends neck whenever possible (while watching a movie in one of their respective houses, while studying for exams, while helping Kurt cook a salt-less dinner for his father).

It was only when their sessions got more intense that Blaine decided to try something new. He began by kissing his way down Kurt's back, the pale skin soft beneath his lips, his hands gently pressing into Kurt's sides, and slipping just beneath the band of his jeans. He heard Kurt sign into his pillow, his back rising gently from the bed only to lower back to the surface of the comforter. Blaine paused, reaching over the side of the bed towards his bag. Kurt could only hear the zipper open before he felt Blaine relax back on top of him, the weight a comfort on his back. But it was the first fine brushes against his skin that made him jump and twist himself around, staring at his boyfriend with wide-eyes, searching for the offending instrument in his hand.

"What are you doing?" Kurt whispered, his chest heaving.

Blaine blinked. He hadn't expected such a reaction. "I, uhm, just wanted to try something."

"A feather." Kurt continued starting at the soft, white specimen between Blaine's fingertips.

"Yes?" The word came out more as a question than intended. "I don't have to. I just thought you'd like the feel of it." Blaine's eyebrows rose high on his forehead. He continued watching Kurt carefully, tensed waiting to see what he would do.

But Kurt didn't do anything; he didn't even move. His eyes were still and trained on the feather.

"C'mon," Blaine said gently, gesturing for Kurt to lay down again. "It'll feel good. I'll show you." His eyes were tender and there was a small smile on his lips.

Kurt swallowed and nodded, slowly. He turned back around and lowered himself into his previous position on the bed.

"Just breathe," Blaine whispered into his ear. Kurt could feel hot breath ghost over his cheek.

Kurt breathed in, deeply, and then he shivered. Blaine had run the feather carefully over the base of Kurt's neck, floating it back and forth between his shoulder blades, before dragging it—ever—so—slowly—down his spine till it reached the space between his skin and the band of his jeans. Goosebumps spread rapidly over Kurt's skin, small shivers of delight racking through his body. Kurt moaned, quietly, into the pillow at his face.

"See?" Blaine whispered, breathe once more covering his boyfriend's ear. Kurt could hear the smile in his voice. "It feels good, doesn't it?"


	2. Chiraptophobia

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.

**Chiraptophobia** (fear of being touched)

Ever since Karofsky's "Attack" (the term Blaine tended to use when he was angry), Kurt began to shy away from any physical contact. He had never been a "huggy" person to begin with, always tensing when friends would rush at him to wrap their arms around his slight body; always twisting his body away from anyone who seemed to becoming too close to his shoulders when he walked down the hallway. He figured that this was normal. If anyone was used to getting locker-slammed and dumpster-tossed on a daily basis, they would withdrawal a bit from physical touch as well.

But it changed, for the worse. Not only did he tense when friends went to hug him, he moved away, his eyes wide with fear, his heart beating like a hummingbirds wings (his friends soon stopped offering their arms of comfort). He hunched his shoulders while walking through the McKinley hallways, fearing even the slightest brush of an arm or shoulder against his own.

He knew why. Of course he did. Something was taken from him, forcibly, and he would never get it back. Never have the chance to truly give it to someone else. And he was scared it would happen again. For months he thought of various ways of getting through the halls unscathed. Sometimes he would leave class early, feigning a headache or a bathroom run, just to get to his next class early without having to bump up against someone. Sometimes he would stay in the bathroom until the late bell rang, then sprint to class, apologizing to the teacher, "Yes, I'm sorry I'm late. I had an emergency phone call," or "Sorry, the office needed me."

It started to change though. It started, he thought, with that gentle hand on his shoulder, telling him it was going to be all right. Lunch, lunch is what he needed ("C'mon, let me buy you lunch."). Even though he still shied away from Blaine's touch (and Blaine was a very, _very_ touchy individual), Kurt still dreamed of his calloused hands, his pointed nose, his strong neck. His daydreams penetrated his thoughts during school and whenever he finally got to touch Blaine's skin (a small squeeze of the hand, or a high-five over Blaine's "breaking of the gay stereotype") his heart would freeze (in a good way) and a pink blush would spread to the pale-whiteness of his cheeks. Maybe it was just Blaine, he thought. Maybe it was only Blaine's touch that was granted on his body.

But no. That wasn't it. It just _started_ with him, and he helped it progress. Kurt realized, after the months of fearing a persons' touch, he was accepting them more and more now. It was with Blaine first. Again, the gentle hand squeezes, the brief hugs before parting ways at the Lima Bean. Next was Mercedes. Always one to welcome a friendly smile, Kurt did notice her sigh when he offered a hug, the first one in months. She took it willingly, and throttled him with hugs whenever she could, no questions asked about his brief stint of lack of physical closeness. Next came Tina, then Quinn (after a particularly emotional day of coming to terms with her resignation from the Cheerios). Finn and Sam were next—Sam never seeming to question a friendly hug, and Finn being too oblivious to notice the several-month long absence of any brotherly affection.

His dad and Carol noticed the change. After an anti-hug Kurt bunking in the room at the top of the stairs for almost half a year, they were the first to note the change in their son. They were small gestures; a hand pressing on a forearm when sharing a story about Glee club, a small kiss on the cheek in the form of a goodbye each morning before hopping into the car to speed off towards Dalton. Neither parent questioned the change, gradual as it was, for fear of having Kurt revert back to his former self. Of course, though, they both knew the cause of this newly formed affection.

Kurt, however, decided not to take not of the change. Yes, he was aware of his new comfort level with people, but the more he dwelt on it, the more he began to question it—and he decided he'd rather not think about it too much.

It wasn't until Blaine finally, _finally_, kissed him that he thought about his level of intimacy with others. He thought back and realized that it was thanks to Blaine –and he often wondered what would've happened if he'd never met Blaine—that he was able to become more comfortable with his friends, his family.

Kurt turned around and pressed a chaste kiss to his boyfriend's lips.

"What was that for?" Blaine smiled from his position against the arm of the couch.

"Just saying 'thank you,'" Kurt said, and leaned his back against Blaine's chest, feeling arms wrap securely around his middle and lips ghost over his cheeks, smiling ever so slightly.

Reviews are wonderful and greatly appreciated! :D


	3. Carnophobia

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee!**

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><p><strong>Carnophobia (fear of meat)<strong>

"I'm going to be a vegetarian."

Burt looked at his determined seven-year-old son—brown hair still damp from his bath, and his skin smelling of Dove soap. Burt wasn't aware his son knew that word.

"But you like meat, Kiddo," Burt said, scooping spoonfuls of carrots and string beans onto Kurt's plate. "You had a hot dog for lunch just yesterday."

"Yes. But now I'm a vegetarian," Kurt spoke with conviction. "Dad," he stage-whispered. "Do you know what "meat" is? Meat—" Even at a young age, Kurt paused for dramatic effect. "Meat is animals!" His eyes widened as he started at his father. "Why do people eat animals? People eat goats and piggies and bunnies and roosters—"

"People usually don't eat roosters, Buddy." His dad interjected. Kurt continued on.

"—And horsies and froggies and doggies and fishies and claw-monsters—"

"Kurt, people don't eat horses either. Or dogs. Well, at least not in this country."

"Ewwww! I don't wanna eat a doggie!" Kurt cried.

"Don't worry, Buddy." Burt smiled, amused at his son's antics. "Tonight, we're having cow instead."

"Noooo! Not Ol' Betsy from downs the street!" Kurt pushed his vegetable-filed plate away and ran from the room. "Betsy! Come back!"

Burt probably would've thought the entire episode was funny, if it weren't for the fact that a minute later he was chasing a small Kurt down the street, his bathrobe flying behind him and his slippers falling from his feet.

** 0o0o0o0o0o0**

"So, my mom wants to have you over for dinner on Friday," Blaine said taking a sip of his coffee. Kurt's eyes widened; yes, he'd been over to Blaine's house before, even for dinner. But this was the first time as _the boyfriend_.

"Why?" It was the only word Kurt could get past his lips, which at the moment, were pressed into a pale-thin line on his face.

Blaine shrugged. "She thought it would be "proper." Her words," he clarified. "Not mine."

"Oh, okay. Sure, why not," Kurt stammered, squeezing his burning cup of coffee. "But, uhm," Kurt continued. "I don't want to seem picky, but there are a few things I don't eat…"

"Oh," Blaine said, his eyes lighting up, a smirk spreading over his lips. "Don't worry. You're dad mentioned that." Blaine quickly got up from his seat and headed towards the door of the shop.

"My mom's making her special rabbit stew," Blaine said, smiling as he heard Kurt sputter in shock into his drink. "You're gonna love it!"


	4. Ouranophobia

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.

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><p><strong>Ouranophobia <strong>(fear of heaven)

Heaven wasn't something he was sure he believed in. He did know, though, that each religion or spiritual cult had their own perception of it: the Christians (in the broad sense) believed in both a Heaven and a Hell (if you were good in your life, you were sent to heaven; if you were bad, you were sent to live with the Devil); the Jews only believed in Heaven (there was no Hell, according to them, so everyone was allotted a place of eternity behind the pearly gates); the Muslims (again, in the broad sense) also believed in both a Heaven and a Hell (Heaven was a place of joy; Hell a place only sinners lived); Buddhism had multiple Heavens—depending on which sect you believed in—but they were all places of everlasting peace; Hinduism always confused him; there were so many variations and possible reincarnations (much like Buddhism), but he was never sure if they believed in Heaven or just Heavenly beings; Sikhism was different. There was no direct Heaven and Hell, only a spiritual salvation after death.

But to Kurt, none of that mattered. He didn't care to know what happened to him after he died. He didn't want to think about a God who decided who entered Heaven and who was sent to the underworld; who would make him gay, then chastise him for it; write in the Bible, each and every bible, that those like him were abominations. Blaine was always telling him it would just make him stronger. The cruelty, the criticisms—he would learn to accept people for the way they were, ignorance and all, and become a better person for it; seeing other's pain would help him feel sympathy and empathy for them, and hopefully by his lack of cruel responses in retaliation, they would learn to let go of their own suffering. Hopefully.

But Blaine was always the optimist. He believed everyone went to Heaven, went to a place of forgiveness and peace and joy when it was their time to leave this Earth. That everyone would be happy together, be understanding, and spend the rest of eternity filled with joy and friendship.

Kurt didn't want that. He didn't want to spend the rest of eternity like that.

He'd rather stay on Earth; suffer physical hardships, cruel words, and damning glares than spend the rest of eternity side-by-side with those that caused his life to become his own personal Hell. Hell, he thought, couldn't be much worse.


	5. Theophobia

**A/N: I may have gone on a tangent with this one a bit… and I only just realized after writing a few more that they're a bit shorter than I originally planned. Though, I guess that means I can get them out sooner.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.  
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><p><strong>Theophobia<strong> (the fear of gods or religion)

Fate wasn't something he believed; nor did he think he could be swayed into believing such an outrageous concept. Regardless of his mother's notions towards the more spiritual (not _religio_us, he pressed whenever the topic came up with his father), even at the impressionable age of eight, he held firm in his beliefs.

His thoughts on the matter only strengthened after his mother's death. Was it fate that that she would die so young and leave him to grow up and suffer through his teenage years without a mother? Regardless of the lack of fairness of the situation (and situations like his, he often reminded himself), he still couldn't make himself believe in something so intangible.

Kurt didn't enjoy the feeling of being powerless over the things around him. It made him feel insecure and vulnerable; and he tried everything possible to make sure his day was exactly how he planed it. His outfits were arranged each night to the T; his hair was immaculate (and always just so; he kept an extra bottle of hairspray in his bag at all times just in case); his voice was only used when the situation called for it (the better to not strain his vocal chords for unnecessary blather); his skin was smooth and blemish free (taking care of by the intense moisturizing routine he completed each night before bed).

Which was why Kurt felt a bubbling crawl inside his stomach the first time he met Blaine. Blaine was uncontrollable. As put together as may have seemed—with his gelled hair, his pristine and creased Dalton uniform, and his shiny brown oxfords—the boy was the most unpredictable thing Kurt had ever come across. And it made him nervous. He never knew what Blaine would do next, be it jumping up on the furniture during a Warbler's number, grabbing hold of his hand as they walked down the hallways of Dalton, kissing him quickly before rushing off to his next class. The list was endless. Kurt never knew what to expect. He originally thought he hated it. The churning inside his stomach was, of course, from the fear and anxiety of having something in his life he couldn't control. That the fates or some God was controlling for him.

He eventually changed his ways of thinking. Blaine wasn't something that could be controlled—by anything. While he may have been something fate had decided to throw at him (and Kurt would never admit to anyone that he had begun to believe in _fate_), his relationship and friendship with Blaine was no less a coincidence than the death of his mother, or his father's heart attack. Kurt's luck and fate weren't thrown in his favor. He had to believe that this was Blaine's doing. Blaine was the one who changed him; allowed him to see that not everything had to be under his control (or, well, almost not everything). Blaine was something tangible; Kurt could feel Blaine's finger's entwined with his; feel the soft lips beneath his own; listen to the quiet breathing beside his ear during a much needed end of the day hug. Blaine was the one who could make Kurt's stomach twist with pleasure (not fear) no matter the situation, controllable or not. Blaine was something he could believe in.

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><p><strong>Reviews are always appreciated! ^_^<strong>


	6. Algophobia

**A/N: Slightly more depressing than I meant it to be. Just letting you know.**

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><p><strong>Algophobia<strong> (fear of pain)

No one ever truly likes pain. With the exception of the BSDM population (which Kurt could never really understand), few people in the world liked the shock to their muscles or the colorful bruises that covered their skin. No one truly likes to experience pain, especially Kurt.

After every locker slam or dumpster toss, Kurt would pick himself off the floor or climb out of the dumpster shaking with terror. His hands shaking and a slight sweat dripping from his brow he would run to the nearest janitorial closet, curl up in the darkest corner and let the tears fall from his eyes. He never used to be so fearful of such pain. He remembered his dad teaching him how to ride his small pink tricycle when he was four. Each time he fell to the ground, his father would pick him up, brush the gravel and rocks from his scabbed knees, kiss his hair, and place him once more on the seat of the bike.

But now, it was different. Within that first week of high school, he learned what it was to be fearful, truly fearful.

Even an accidental shove into one of the Dalton lockers triggered the feeling again, the fear. It would radiate through his body, freeze his chest, and claw at his throat, swelling his eyes with water and his fingers with blue colouring. It wasn't just with locker shoves: whenever someone's arm brushed his side, or the echo of a closing door bouncing off the halls, or the quick patter of sneakers squeaking along the linoleum floor Kurt would clutch at his chest and wait for the anticipated fear that would shake his entire body.

Eventually, Kurt decided to confront his pain. _Courage_, the small sign said underneath the picture of Blaine in his locker. Kurt knew this probably wasn't what Blaine meant, but it comforted him to know that at least someone would care if what he did went horribly, horribly wrong.

Kurt still didn't like pain, but he was now able to control the pain that was inflicted on his body. Whenever he returned home after a particularly hard day, and his father remained at the shop until dinner, Kurt would remove the small silver blade from the old razor he kept in his bathroom, turn to the classical station on his radio (it made him feel more dramatic—and Kurt had always been one for dramatics), lean up against the bathtub, and run the sharp edge across the soft flesh of his wrist. The blood would drip in droplets, bright red falling to the brilliant white of the tub, staining it with his fear and pain. His breathing would slow and he would run the blade again, and again, and again, down his arm till his entire forearm was covered in small horizontal lines that gleamed red in the fluorescent bathroom light.

With each line he drew across his skin, he would think of Blaine; see his brilliant eyes, his gorgeous smile, his gelled hair; feel his calloused fingertips play across his cheeks, desperately wishing Blaine could be there now, holding him, wiping away his tears.

But he knew that would never happen. With every part of his mind and soul, he knew such comfort would never hold him in its arms.

His realization led him one day to run the blade lengthways down his arm, the blood flowing more freely towards the drain as his vision swirled with black and his eyelids closed gently over his eyes.

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><p><strong>AN: I made myself really sad when writing this T_T**


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